


The King and The Queen

by thegreatstoryteller



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Brief appearance by Tyrion, F/M, Falling In Love, Mentions of Jon Snows butt, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 17:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11833251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatstoryteller/pseuds/thegreatstoryteller
Summary: Jon and Daenerys share a morning together, before Jon leaves for Eastwatch.





	The King and The Queen

Jon Snow was a good, honorable man. With the weight of an entire army across his broad shoulders. In the short weeks I’ve known him - Has it really only been weeks?- He has dug himself deep into my life. A solemn and comfortable presence that has come to be a part of everyday life. A part that I will sorely miss, once he is gone.

The sun is just rising, half of it peeking over the horizon now. My bedroom faces its brutal onslaught of light. But the balcony gave me a beautiful view of this edge of the massive island. The cool morning air, nipped at my skin. But I didn’t want to put on anymore fabric. The flimsy dressing gown I wore now was so dainty and light on my skin, it was like a cloud. Held onto my body by silken ties around my waist. The sleeves were so loose, they threatened to slip from my otherwise bare shoulders.

There was a stirring behind me. I turned. Jon was starting to wake up. I walked to my bed, and leaned against one of the four posters. A scrap of blanket covered his lower half, but I knew beneath it he was as naked as his name day. He rolled to his side, and the blanket fell away from him backside, exposing his bum.

I wanted to laugh at the notion of the two of us. The King of the North, and the Dragon Queen. Two very improbable people, forced together by even more improbable circumstance. Who had somehow developed an attraction to each other during all of it. And here we stood. Well, here I stood, and where Jon laid sprawled out in my bed.

I went around and crawled into the bed. His face was so calm when he was asleep, the rough frown lines faded away. But they made the angry scars across his chest stand out that much more. Our first night together I couldn’t do anything but stare at them and touch them. They were fascinating, the scars of a dead man. A knife to the heart indeed. Not just an expression of the North as Ser Davos had tried leading me to believe.

My hand raised of its own accord. And began to trace those scars, those beautiful intricate scars. There were so many. Each one representing a betrayal, from men Jon had regarded as brothers. Truly despicable men.

I rested my head against a pillow, and watched him for a few minutes more. He looked ready to wake before, but now he had settled back down. He would leave for Eastwatch on the morrow. And with these horrific White Walkers he speaks off, who knows if he’ll come back. I need to remember what he looks like, before he’s gone.

There was a sharp knocking on my door that startled me. Jon stayed asleep, thankfully. I went to the door and cracked it open. Enough to see who was there, but not enough to let them see into the room. Rumors didn’t need to be spread right now. Not that Jon and I were ashamed of our nights together. If anything, our advisors would probably celebrate if they knew. Then start to push marriage suggestions. And it is a good idea, I won’t deny that.

Tyrion stood at the door. Face expressionless, but still holding an air of superior cleverness. His meeting with his brother must have gone well, or else he would seem far more dower. 

“What is it?”

“Jaime has agreed to try and arrange an armistice with Cersei.” He told me. “We can expect a raven with more information.”

“Thank you” He gave a bow of the head and plodded off to where he went when he wasn’t advising. I shut the door and turned around, to see a wide awake Jon.

“Cersei?” He question, sitting up and stretching out. I nodded and went to the bed. Laying down and placing my head in his lap. He ran his hair through what was left of my braids. A few still hung on, while the rest had come loose at some point in the previous night's activities. 

“The Kingslayer is going to try and arrange the armistice.” I told him. His face looked cross at the mention of the man. He seemed to hate the man more than me, even though he’d killed my father and tried to kill me. I can’t really blame him for the first of the two though. He saved thousands of lives in doing so. Even if it did serve to make my life extremely difficult. “Tell me of Cersei Lannister.”

“I’ve never officially met her.” He said. “I saw her from afar when she came to Winterfell years ago. But she was the Queen, and I was a bastard. We weren’t in the same circles back then.” He sighed. “But my sister has told me about her. She says she’s ruthless, determined, that she won’t back down.” It was a warning I’d heard dozens of times from Tyrion.

“I have to be smart. I have to do what she isn’t expecting me to do.” It seemed easier said than done.

“Like dragging a White Walker from the other side of the wall and dropping it at her feet.” He said.

“And let it rip her to shreds.” I muttered. Jon laughed. He fell back shaking from his laughter. It was a merry and pure sound, something that was so rare and beautiful. Like an eclipse of the sun. We wanted to lay their for eternity, at least I did. His arms wrapped around me. Warm, firm, secure. He didn’t want to let go, but he had to.

He rose from the bed, and began to dress. Slowly, letting me watch. Giving me ample view of his body, he had a such a nice bum. He finally went to my balcony and stood there. Watching my children fly through the air, screeching wildly.

He had such a strange connection with them. I’ve never seen them behave as they have toward him, to anyone besides me. Why did they trust him? It was so odd. Yet nice, to have someone who could see and look at them the way that I do. To see the beauty and the danger.

I stood from the bed and went to him. I ran my hands across his black leathered chest. Along the silver direwolf sigil that adorned his breast. He said he has one of the massive wolves himself. Which I thought unbelievable at first, but then I remembered I have three dragons.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and held me close.  “Don’t let them rip you to shreds.” I told him. 

“I will return.” He said with a laugh, but there was an uncertain edge to his voice. “I dare not disobey a Queen.” He kissed the top of my head.

“When you do return,” I said. I would not even consider the idea of him not coming back. “I would very much like to see The North you speak so highly of.” He turned to me in surprise. “After Cersei, after the war is finished.” I said. “I would very much like to see it, and meet your people.” 

“I would like that too.” He said. He leaned down to kiss me, slow and gentle.

A few short hours later, we found ourselves at the shore. Saying our goodbyes, wishing each other luck. And then he was gone. That night alone in my bed, I dreamed of Jon. He rode Rhaegal, draped all in red and black, and I rode Drogon beside him. We flew high into the sky and off into a golden sun that never set.


End file.
